“I want that back, you know.” She made grabby fingers at me. “No, don’t throw it at me! You know I can’t catch—Mmph, than yoo.”
My fingers hovered after stuffing the mochi into her mouth, before giving in to the urge to touch her face. Tia had the most amazingly soft skin. Not like silk because that was too cold, or like cotton because that was too common. More like, warm velvet that heated under my touch.
Her eyes widened as I leaned in, her cheeks still bulging a little from the forgotten mochi. It would have been so easy to press my lips against hers.
So necessary.
To think that I was once determined to put off sex so we could develop a real foundation. Every time I touched her, my resolve got weaker. I had vastly underestimated her and vastly overestimated my own control when I was with her.
I was tired of acting as if we were just friends, as if there wasn’t this crazy chemistry between us. Instead, I should have pushed earlier and gotten us busy horizontally. Screw foundation. We could develop a foundation after we screwed.
“What were you saying earlier about Saturdays?”
“Hmm?” I blinked.
With a big gulp, Tia swallowed her mochi and placed a firm hand against my chest. My whole brain was focusing on the puzzle of whether her hand meant stop or a need-to-touch-me. Please, be the latter.
“You were talking about the days of the week. It sounded as if you were going somewhere with that.” Her fingers pressed my chest firmly. Away from her. Damn.
My hand dropped from the back of her neck, as I sat back in my chair. I stared at the window behind Tia and tried to remember the argument that I had prepared. “I was thinking, since we started this arrangement on a Sunday evening—actually, if you consider the renegotiations when your parents came over, it was really nine before we finalized the verbal contract—tonight isn’t our last night. Hear me out. After we finalized the terms of our contract, we didn’t do anything more that night, right? So really, Monday was the start. Which means that we have until tomorrow.”
She didn’t say a word.
Swallowing a lump in my throat, I forced myself to look at her squarely and said in my most reasonable voice, “I still have one more day, and I’m holding you to that. One more day, and I’ll—you can decide what you want me to do after that.”
I couldn’t speak out loud what I had promised to do in exchange for these two weeks. I didn’t want to sign any fucking papers that severed our relationship and took away my flimsy excuse to see her.
Her head cocked in deep thought, Tia looked at me, her eyes assessing and in what felt like judgment. Clearly, I was not going to pass if she wouldn’t even grant me one extra day. One measly day to come up with something, anything that would convince her to try again with me.
A low ache spread through my bones, as my lungs slowed to a crawl in reluctant acceptance of what was to come. Which was no more Tia. This was it. These two weeks were a farce, and she’d go back to her perfect life while I was still the son of a criminal. After all of this, I still wasn’t good enough.
And this time, I knew it was truly the end. Which made it hurt so fucking much.
“Please.” The word slipped out of me before I could stop myself from begging. I was both ashamed and desperate. If the past two weeks were any indication of what we could be, no matter how much the thought made my skin crawl, I would throw myself at her feet and beg. Hell, I’d beg in the streets in front of a crowd for a second chance and screw looking like a damn fool.
A frown of confusion appeared on her face, as if she were examining me like I was an odd species in science class. Abruptly her face cleared as if she had just found the answer to some great mystery.
In a voice oddly tender for a breakup, she started, “Oh, Andrew, about that. I’ve been thinking …”
Here it comes. Scrambling to shore up my heart, I braced myself. Accept her decision, accept her decision and walk away.
“What do you think about, um …”
Accept. And. Walk. The. Fuck. Away.
“Maybe we hang out the Saturday after Thanksgiving?”
“Huh?” What sort of weird, prolonged torture was this?
Red stained Tia's cheeks, as she fidgeted in her chair and tickled her neck with the ends of her ponytail. She looked so uncomfortable that I was worried for her. “Saturday after Thanksgiving. I’ll be in Colorado to see my family. Maybe we can meet up after the holidays … in Breckenridge.”
Sadness rose within me. What else could be in Breckenridge? I said, “Yes.”
She must have sensed that I understood what she was offering and with the absolute gratefulness and gravity that I underscored my “Yes,” for her whole body seemed to relax visibly in front of me. A warm smile teased the corners of her mouth.
Unable to help myself, yet fully aware that I might be pushing too hard, I asked, “What happens between now and Breckenridge? I want to keep seeing you.”
Smiling, she shook her head. “You’re growing on me too, Andrew. However, I have some things that I need to do by myself in the next couple of weeks before I head back home for the holidays.”
“FaceTime? Calls?”
“I’ll be busy.”
“I’ll be quick. ‘Hi, it’s Andrew. Bye.’”
“Nah-uh. I need to focus to get everything done before Breckenridge.”
“Sexting?”
“Ha! No.” Her smile was broad, the best kind that there was. I could bask in the shadow of her happiness.
“Nudes?”
“Gosh no! Remember, no dick pics, please.”
“How do you know that I’m going to send dick pics? I listened to you before. Maybe I was going to send an artistic representation of my shoulder. A study of shoulders in black and white.” I raised my eyebrows up and down in an exaggerated, come-hither look.
Tia’s shoulders were shaking as she tried to look stern, that lovely broad smile still lighting up her beautiful face. “Guess I’ll have to miss that masterpiece. What will I do?”
“In all seriousness”—I kept my tone deliberately light, to not scare her—“what am I going to do without you for the next couple of weeks, Tia? I’ve gotten used to having you around. What am I going to do if I don’t have to keep you from walking into walls or burning your food?”
Not fooled by my flippant tone, Tia’s smile dipped a little. She countered, “Eat properly cooked food that is not charred?”
Laughter burst from me, catching me and Tia by surprise. Laughter always caught me by surprise. I never expected to laugh. Most of the time, that expectation was correct. But this woman just did something to me—she commanded my respect even as I wanted to protect her. She tickled my funny bone even as I wanted her to stroke something else whenever she was near.
How could I resist the teasing, intelligent, thoughtful woman who was sitting across from me? Throwing caution to the wind, I leaned forward, pausing a rapid heartbeat to give her time to react.
Her eyelids fluttered closed as she swayed toward me. I was already doing the victory dance in my pants, when she put the palm of her right hand against my chest. Damn hand-to-chest blocker again.
I dropped my forehead to hers and struggled to even out my breathing. “Not tonight?”
Shaking her head reluctantly, Tia confirmed, “I’m not ready yet.”
I seized on that. “Not yet. Then when?”
Mutely, Tia stared at me, refusing to answer. I wanted to wait until she was ready, but that didn’t mean that I understood why she hesitated.
Part of me was pleased to see that her breaths were uneven, as if the close contact had affected her just as much as it did to me. The other part of me was flat-out fucking horny and therefore extremely frustrated.
When I couldn’t take the unrequitedness of our proximity anymore, I stood up and walked toward the door. “I should go,” I said, even though I definitely did not want to go anywhere.
“Um, okay.” Tia followed me to the door and grabbed my jac
ket from her coat hanger to hand to me. I was careful not to touch her fingers, in case that contact turned me into a caveman and I started demanding what she clearly wasn’t ready for. Or ever would be, the killjoy part of my brain chimed in.
“Send me the details for Breckenridge, and I’ll see you there.”
“Okay, will do.” Hesitation shone in her face as her hands rose and dropped.
Trying to respect her and wary of the caveman inside of me, I muttered goodbye and turned to walk toward the elevators.
Except, three steps away from Tia, I immediately regretted my decision.
Turning around, my stupid heart leaped to see her staring at me, her body half in the hallway. In a couple ground-eating steps, I was in front of her, my arms wrapped tightly around her, pulling her into me. Pulling her into my heart. Willing her to feel even an ounce of what my heart pounded out.
My body relaxed when I felt her lean up on her tippy-toes, arms wrapping around my neck. A content sigh escaped from Tia, her warm breath tickling my neck, as she snuggled against my chest. This hug wasn’t nearly enough, but it soothed my soul momentarily.
With more self-control than I thought possible, I unwrapped her arms from my neck and untangled myself before I could do something foolish. “I’ll see you soon, Tia.”
“See you soon, Andrew,” she whispered, her arms clasping around her waist.
This time, I didn’t turn around again as I left. My mind was whirling with ideas. I had two weeks until I saw Tia again, and I needed a plan to extend our “arrangement” into something more permanent.
Chapter Seventeen
Andrew
February 8, 2009
Ting Ting,
We kissed yesterday. This is my testimonial, in case I need it for evidence in the future.
Date: February 7, 2009.
Where: Ross’ frat house party.
What: I kissed you. You kissed me back.
How: With tongue.
When can I see you again?
Yours,
Andrew
To: [email protected]
Subject: Hi
Hi,
You didn’t say no to emails, so hi.
What do you call someone with no body and no nose? Nobody knows!
What do you call a pig that does karate? A pork chop!
What did the area say to the perimeter while arguing? I’m trying to talk to you, but I feel like you’re just going around my problem.
Should I keep going? I’ve got lots more.
Andrew
To: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Hi
Hi,
Okay, okay, I’ll allow emails. Your jokes are terrible. What else do you have?
Tia
To: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Hi
Hi,
If a joke is so bad it makes you laugh, is it a good joke, then? Never mind, I got some pickup lines I’ve been meaning to try on you:
What’s at least six inches long, goes in your mouth, and is more fun if it vibrates? A toothbrush. Get your mind out of the gutter, Tia.
I’m a muggle on the streets, but a wizard in the sheets. Want to get magical?
Are you full of beryllium, gold, and titanium? Because you are BE-AU-TI-full.
So, what’s the verdict? Are you charmed?
Andrew
To: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Hi
Hi,
Your lame attempts at humor are not the worst part of my day. Actually, I had a pretty disheartening day today.
Tia
To: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Hi
Hi,
Had a bad day? Just pug-et about it.
In all seriousness, want to talk about it? I don’t like the thought of you being sad.
Andrew
To: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Hi
Hi, Andrew,
Nope, I’ll tell you sometime later. See you in a few days.
Tia
Frowning, I stared at the phone in my hand, rereading Tia’s last email. If this problem was bothering her enough for her to mention it, whatever she was dealing with must be bad. I wished I could do something about it.
Was it an angry student? Even though teaching wasn’t her main priority, Tia took it seriously and pored over her reviews, trying to get better each semester. Or maybe her research? She was working with some professor out in Chicago on healthcare virtual buddies powered by AI and had been feeling out of her element.
I was in the middle of writing an email back to her to tell her how brilliant she was, when a thought stopped my fingers.
Damn. Of course, she was stressed.
A knot settled into my stomach, a big, uncomfortable knot with thorny tentacles ripping my insides. She was at home with her parents and most likely pretending to them that she and Clayton were okay. Would she eventually tell her parents about us? If she did, how long would it take before she chose her parents’ approval over me?
Despite having a nice job and my own house, my blood was still tainted. My dad had kept a low profile since leaving prison, but that just meant he had more time to think up his next scheme. It was only a matter of time before his evilness was caught again.
After our last evening together, I had flown back to Chicago to keep me from running after her. Now, on the Tuesday evening before Thanksgiving, I waited outside a terminal at Chicago O’Hare to pick up my mom who was going to spend the holidays with me.
The first thing that I had done when I started seeing my bank account grow was petition my mom to retire. The second thing was buying her a little condo in Florida that looked just like the magazine cutouts that she hid in her nightstand when I was growing up. Though she never said it, I knew I owed her for keeping us afloat after my dad went to jail. She hadn’t been the most hands-on mom, but she could have easily thrown me into the foster system, instead of working multiple jobs to feed my never-ending appetite.
“Hi, Mom.” I waved slightly, when I saw her emerge from the terminal. We were not hugging type of people. “How was your flight from Fort Lauderdale?”
“It was so quick. I barely had time to get into my book before we started descending. Are you sure I’m not imposing on you by staying with you?” A worried look appeared on her thin face, as she tapped her nails against her carry-on bag.
I hated how easily the nervous look appeared on her tired face. It was another strike against Brandon Parker. “Don’t worry about it. I want you to see my new place. I even made my bed.” I gave her my most winsome smile.
Her little laugh warmed me as we exited the airport and headed for my car. It took months after my dad went to prison before I heard her laugh. A true laugh, not the laugh she put on for my father to appease his ego. Another strike against Brandon Parker.
“What have you been doing lately? You sounded so busy on the phone the last few weeks,” she asked, once we were settled in my car. “If you don’t mind me asking.”
“I’m your son. You’re supposed to pry.” Were all mothers supposed to pry? Actually, I wasn’t sure. “I was in Boston for a couple weeks.”
“To see Tia?”
Astonished, I glanced at her quickly before turning back to the road. If you ever wanted to see hand-wringing, my mother could teach a master class on it. Like a little bird, her hands fidgeted nonstop.
“I still keep in touch with some people back in Breckenridge. They mentioned that you were at Tia’s engagement party. Gossip travels fast.”
I waited for her to say that she had heard that Tia’s engagement was off. Nothing. I was still the secret on the side.
Worthless piece of shit who’ll never amount to anything. I hated that one of my clearest childhood memories was my dad’s favorite phrase for me, and I hated that I could hear his voice and recall his sneer as he said it.
“Must have been odd to see her after so many years. Did you know she goes by Tia now? I don’t blame her, you know? So
metimes a name change is as good of a new start as any. I thought about going back to being Mary Walden,” she confessed, surprising me again.
“Why didn’t you?”
“I wanted the two of us to have the same family name.”
“We would still have been family with different last names.”
There was a long pause before my mom continued, her voice wavering, “I couldn’t be sure. You’ve achieved so much for yourself. With your refusal to come back to Colorado even for a visit after you graduated college, I didn’t know if you had room for me.”
With an abrupt swerve, I pulled into the breakdown lane on the side of the highway and took my mom’s fluttering hands into mine. “I’ve told you before, you’re my mom, and I’ve promised that I would take care of you.”
She scoffed. “I should have taken better care of you. I should have taken you and left long before your father went to prison.”
“You and I both know that wouldn’t have worked. Brandon didn’t take kindly to having his possessions taken away from him,” I said matter-of-factly.
Cars rumbled by as we sat in silence. Some things were better left in the past. There was no point in dredging up should haves and could haves. Forcing a lighthearted tone that I didn’t feel, I squeezed my mom’s hands to emphasize my words. “Let’s forget about him. He’s not worth our thoughts.”
With a tenuous smile, she nodded.
Pulling back onto the highway, I felt lighter. It wasn’t as if I had a bad relationship with my mom. It also wasn’t as if five minutes on the side of the road would solve the distance between us. But I meant my words—the two of us had survived the deceit and misery caused by my dad, and sometimes, survival was sufficient.
A few minutes later, I pulled into my garage. We busied ourselves getting my mom’s luggage into the townhouse and making small talk about my new place. It wasn’t huge—two bedrooms, a small yard—but it was mine (plus a mortgage). It was a far cry from the shelter we had lived in right after my dad had been arrested.
Give Love a Chai (Common Threads Book 2) Page 15